


Casual

by cassiewrites



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Casual, Keating Five, M/M, Teasing, im trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiewrites/pseuds/cassiewrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Only an idiot would fall for your charm, if you can even call it that.”<br/>“That sounds like a challenge,” Connor counters, a wicked smirk on his face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casual

**Author's Note:**

> (Set after 1.07)

Connor is ditching them for the third night in a row to go on a date with some random dude he met on Grindr. The term “date” being used loosely, in this case.

The Keating Five have been down to four, but really more like three because Wes keeps leaving for hours at a time. He’s being kind of sketchy but everyone already assumes he’s not-so-secretly out with Rebecca. Those two are as subtle as a gun.

All of these factors leave Laurel, Michaela, and Asher with the grunt of the work, staying up late, searching through case files they’ve read a dozen times trying to find something they missed. Laurel and Michaela keep shooting cold glares in Asher’s direction every time he opens his mouth. It’s always a fun night in the Keating house.

“I wish I could stay to further sort through this mountain of paperwork, I truly do, but I have other pressing matters to attend to,” Connor says as he grabs his coat from where he tossed it over the back of a chair.

“And by ‘pressing matters’ you mean pressing yourself up against some guy who doesn’t matter to you at all,” Michaela says with a scowl.

Connor looks at her apathetically, “You wound me, Michaela.”

Asher puts down the file in his hand and scoffs. “Gay guys have it easy, man. No wine, no flowers, no three date rule. You can get it anytime you want.” He shakes his head, looking genuinely upset.

Connor rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. “It’s not a _gay thing_. I can’t help that I’m irresistable, _bro._ ” He says the last word in a mocking tone.

“ _Please,_ ” Asher sneers. “Only an idiot would fall for your charm, if you can even call it that.”

“So it should be really easy for Connor to get in your pants,” Laurel says, then looks up quickly as if she didn’t mean to say that out loud. Everyone laughs except Asher, who keeps his jaw clenched.

“Yeah, right,” Asher says, struggling to come up with a response.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Connor counters, a wicked smirk on his face.

Asher squints at him for a moment, noticing Connor’s eyebrow arched like a threat. “Whatever. It won’t work on me. I know all your tricks, anyway. You’re just gonna smile and flip your hair and what, expect me to fall in love with you?”

“You underestimate me, Millstone,” Connor replies with an air of unwavering confidence. He grabs his bag and says, “See you later, kids,” eyes lingering longest on Asher.

The rest of the night, Asher tells himself that Connor is being ridiculous. He even considers making a list of reasons why he would never be attracted to Connor, but figures that would weaken his argument. He wouldn’t want to give Connor the satisfaction of knowing he was thinking about him.

 

-

 

Connor Walsh always gets what he wants. He doesn’t expect this challenge to be any different.

There’s a subtlety to his advances that could be admired, but Asher certainly doesn’t appreciate it.

At first, he doesn’t even realize it’s happening. He wakes up the next morning thinking, maybe it was a joke. Connor does have a twisted sense of humor. Maybe he’s forgotten about it.

Asher gets to Keating’s class a little late--he left the trophy in his apartment and had to go back for it--and sees the only open seat next to Connor. He shuffles his way down to the seat, resenting every step that he gets closer. Connor turns his head slightly when Asher sits down, as if to say, “Oh, it’s you? I had no idea.” Yeah, right. He planned this. Asher doesn’t know how, but he did.

Asher huffs with derision as he takes out his laptop, seeing Connor smirk slightly out of the corner of his eye.

He tries to focus on Professor Keating’s lecture for the rest of the class, but something keeps drawing his focus away. Connor’s knee pressed against his, their elbows brushing, the sound of Connor licking his lips.

 _Shit,_ Asher thinks, panicking slightly. _He’s in my head._

This is ridiculous. It’s crazy. It’s Stockholm syndrome.

What’s even worse is that Connor doesn’t say a word. Even after the class ends, he doesn’t so much as spare a glance Asher’s way. The Keating Five meet with the Professor for a couple minutes after class just as a reminder of their next hearing, but Connor’s focus is sharply away from Asher. Asher, however, can’t take his mind or his eyes off Connor.

He doesn’t have any other classes with Connor, so he manages to avoid him for the rest of the day. Until the meeting at Keating’s house, of course. They spend nearly every night at her house, especially now that they have such a tough case to work on. Asher is supposed to be thinking about how to keep Rebecca out of jail for the rest of her life, not what Connor’s perverted gameplan is.

But seriously, what’s his deal?

Connor is the one to show up late tonight. The curtains are open and Asher can clearly see Connor stepping out of a black Mercedes that he’s not driving. He leans into the passenger side window, back arching down into the curve of his-

But Asher is not noticing that.

Connor says something to the driver before the car speeds away. There’s a sly smirk on his face as he turns around and walks into the house. Asher looks away quickly, fixating his attention on whatever Annalise is saying.

“Nice of you to join us, Mr. Walsh,” she says, barely bothered, then continues talking about the case or whatever she was going on about.

Connor takes off his jacket and sits on the couch across from Asher. _At least he’s not pressed right up against me,_ Asher thinks thankfully. His gratitude is short-lived, though, when he realizes what Connor’s strategy is.

Okay, he doesn’t know _exactly_ what it is, but something is definitely going on.

Connor sits with his legs spread wide, but a lot of guys do that. He runs his hand through his hair, but maybe it’s a habit. Even when he stretches his arms over his head and his shirt rides up, showing a hint of bare skin, that could just be a coincidence.

“Mr. Millstone?”

Asher looks up at Annalise with wide eyes and says, “Hmm?”

“Do you know what you’re doing, Mr. Millstone?” Annalise asks again, arms crossed.

“Me? I’m not-I’m not doing anything,” Asher stutters. He can hear Michaela and Laurel choking back their giggles.

“Really? Because I just assigned everyone a responsibility for the week and I’m sure that I gave one to you.” Her irritation is evident in her tone.

Asher sighs. “Sorry, Professor, I was just--”

“Distracted?” Connor cuts in. Asher wants to punch that smug look right off his face--and would he stop doing that thing with his eyebrows?

Asher glares at him and makes a point to look in every direction other than his for the rest of the meeting. He has to get Michaela to summarize everything for him after Annalise leaves the room, because of course she always takes notes. His job for the week, apparently, is to search through another pile of transcripts and files to find anything that they haven’t already seen. Luckily, though, he won’t be doing it alone. Connor will be with him. Fantastic.

That’s how Asher ends up spending his Friday night with Connor, relatively alone other than Bonnie coming in sometimes to make sure they’re not drooling on any of the paperwork.

Asher manages to get over the gagging feeling in his throat after the fourth time he reads through the autopsy reports. He squints at the pictures of the marks on that poor dead girl’s body, twisting and turning them to see if there’s anything he’s missed.

“It’s pretty fucked up that she was pregnant when she died...” Asher mutters.

“So, it would’ve been less fucked up if she wasn’t?” Connor says. He can always find a way to twist his words around. Dick.

“Shut up, you know what I mean,” Asher scoffs. He looks a little closer at a bruise on her side and says, “Hey, did you notice this?”

He expects Connor to just grab the file from his hands, but instead he gets up and leans next to Asher’s chair, looking over his shoulder. His fingers graze Asher’s hand as he reaches for the file and Asher jerks away on instinct.

Connor huffs a laugh. “Someone’s on edge...”

Asher shoves the picture into his hand and crosses his arms over his chest. Connor sits on the edge of Asher’s chair and scans the picture he’s holding. Asher can’t admit to himself that he notices Connor’s long eyelashes and the way he purses his lips when he’s deep in concentration.

When he shrugs and puts the file back on Asher’s lap, Asher swears his hand lingers there for a moment too long. “Would you quit it, dude?”

Connor looks at him like he’s off his rocker. “Wow, what crawled up your ass this morning?”

Asher gets up quickly. “You! I mean, shit, I know what you’re doing, and it’s not working!”

“Clearly,” Connor replies, dragging his eyes down at Asher’s stiff, defensive stance.

“Would you just- _ugh._ ” Asher stammers out before storming down the hall and slamming the door behind him.

 

-

 

Asher’s little outburst proves to do nothing but damage. It’s clear that he’s got some major insecurities, and Connor uses that to his own advantage.

The next week continues to be hell for Asher.

Connor runs into court late one day, probably after a night of conquest. His hair is still wet from a shower and wavy curls are starting to form. His cheeks are flushed and his beard is a bit scruffier than usual. He sits next to Asher, smirking slightly. A curl falls onto his forehead and, swear to God, he looks like Superman. He presses himself into Asher’s side and this time he can tell it’s on purpose. Asher can feel his body heat radiating through his suit until they call a recess thirty minutes later. Asher jolts out of his seat the moment the judge hammers his mallet.

He knows it’s a game and he’s giving Connor all the satisfaction in the world, but he doesn’t know how else to react. He even tries playing into it once by sitting on Connor’s lap, but after about ten minutes where Connor remains unfazed, Asher finally exhales loudly with disdain and gets up (well, falls off).

Connor lets out a cruel laugh and says, “If you wanted a little over-the-pants action, all you had to do was ask.”

Asher points at him sharply. “You’re evil, you know that?”

“No, I’m a competitor, and I never lose.” He looks at Asher with a fierce-yet-soft look in his eyes.

“Yeah? Well-” Asher swallows hard. “I won the trophy, so there.” He sticks his tongue out at Connor as he walks away.

Days pass and Connor is still managing to find new ways to mess with Asher. He trails his finger up Asher’s arm as he walks by. He whispers into Asher’s ear, his lips barely grazing over his skin. Asher shivers slightly every time, usually cursing under his breath afterward.

There’s one night where Connor must be feeling particularly daring. It’s after midnight and Keating’s house is starting to feel like a jail cell. The Keating Five plus Rebecca all decide to go on a Taco Bell run to cap off the night. They attempt to go through the drive-thru, but everyone shouts orders at Michaela and she threatens to strangle them all. They go inside and Michaela writes down all of their orders in a civilized manner, then they all pitch in some cash to pay. They grab a booth and drag a small table to connect to it so everyone fits, ignoring the glares from the employees. Wes and Rebecca sit next to each other and apparently they’re not-so-secretly dating anymore by the looks of his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Laurel and Michaela sit next to each other because they still, somehow, have case notes to go over. This leaves Asher getting stuck sitting across from Connor, much to Connor’s amusement. Bastard.

Wes offers to get the food when their ticket is called, like the adorable, obedient puppy he is. He manages to balance three trays on both arms without dropping anything. Asher reaches toward him with grabby hands until he gets his burrito. He tears off the paper and takes a huge bite into the mediocre burrito with an exaggerated moan.

“When was the last time you ate?” Rebecca asks, a disgusted look on her face.

He wipes some grease off his chin and says, still chewing, “A few hours ago, why?”

It’s almost like they’ve all synchronized their eye rolling.

Everyone starts eating like normal human beings while Asher continues scarfing down the burrito. He’s about to swallow when he feels pressure where there was none before. He sputters, choking out some ground beef while everyone around him looks nauseated.

He looks down at his lap and sees one of Connor’s perfectly-shined boots pressed into his groin. He glances up at Connor, then back at his lap, then at the burrito, then back at Connor. No one else seems to notice, they’re all caught up in their own issues.

Asher glares at Connor’s vengeful smirk. As he opens his mouth to speak, Connor presses his shoe harder straight into Asher’s dick. Asher lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a whine and a groan. Connor raises his eyebrows arrogantly and takes a bite into his taco.

“I didn’t take you for a taco guy,” Asher manages to say.

Connor’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

There’s no escape. Connor and Asher are in the furthest end of the booth and no one is paying attention to either of them. Asher attempts to continue eating, hyperaware that Connor is now rocking his foot back and forth slightly. When he finishes eating, he crumbles the paper into a tight ball and plans to shove it down Connor’s throat later. No matter how far back he sits in his seat, Connor is still there. He’s getting off on this, probably. Sick fuck. Asher most definitely is _not_ getting off on this, at least that’s what he’s telling himself. He even tries giving his dick a little pep talk. _Are you there, cock? It’s me, Asher. Please stay calm, just take a little nap._

He flexes his hand into a tight fist and rests his forehead on it, trying to calm his breathing. Sure, he could give up and tell everyone what a pervert Connor is, but where’s the challenge in that?

“You okay, Asher?” Laurel asks, giving him an odd look.

Asher look up, eyes wide and mouth pressed into a tight line. “Hmm?”

“You look kind of sick,” she says with knitted brows.

He scratches the back of his neck a little too hard and says, in a strained tone, “Yeah, I probably just ate too fast.”

“Serves you right,” Michaela mutters.

“So, uh, are you guys finished yet?” Asher says, losing patience with himself and Connor.

“You got somewhere to be?” Connor says before taking another slow bite into his food.

“I’m just really-” He inhales sharply as Connor pushes harder, “ _-tired._ ”

Michaela waves at him dismissively. “We’ll leave a few minutes.”

The next five minutes feel like five hours to Asher. He chews the inside of his lip raw, focusing intently on a suspicious stain on the table. He stays strong until everyone gets up to leave and he looks up at Connor licking his lips. Though he’s technically sitting down, one part of Asher is already standing up.

“Asher?” Michaela says when he’s the only one still seated. She puts her hands on her hips impatiently.

“You guys go ahead, I’m just gonna...bathroom,” he grunts.

She shrugs and follows everyone out to the car. Connor lingers a little, smiling his way.

Asher runs to the bathroom nearly folded in half and covering his crotch.

That’s how an employee catches him leaning into the sink, running cold water over his boner. Let’s just say, he won’t be going to that Taco Bell again any time soon.

 

-

 

Asher hasn’t felt this betrayed in a long time. First that stint at Taco Bell, and now he wakes up with a semi after an embarrassingly explicit dream about Connor.

It’s an outrage. Connor must be into some black magic shit or something, because Asher can’t think of any other explanation as to why this is happening to him.

It’s not like he has a _crush_ on Connor or anything, he’s not some annoying, hormonal preteen. It’s just that he’s never really had any gay friends before--not that he would consider Connor a _friend_. Asher is just curious, is all. Now that Connor’s got him all flustered, he wonders if that voodoo penis thing is true.

He can’t take it anymore. Not one more moment of hot breath on his neck or a hand suddenly tugging at his hair. It all feels like it’s leading to something that Asher seriously doesn’t want to think about. Does this count as sexual harassment? Is there a complaint box somewhere in Professor Keating’s office?

Asher decides to take out his frustration the only way an upper-class, white boy knows how. A trip to the country club.

He plays a couple rounds of golf and catches up with some of his dad’s old business pals. It’s the best game he’s played in a while, actually--probably because he keeps imagining that the ball is Connor’s face.

By the end of the afternoon, he’s covered in cold sweat from the slight chill in the air and decides to go to the sauna. He attempts to flirt with the hot girl handing out the towels, but her only response is a scowl in his direction. _You’ll get ‘em next time, stud._

He strips in the locker room and wraps a towel around his waist as he steps into the sauna. A wall of steam encompasses him and he has to narrow his eyes to find a place to sit. He can’t make out any human shapes, so he seems to be alone.

The mixture of the hot steam on his skin and the feel of the warm wood on his back calms him. He closes his eyes and leans his head back...until a moment later when someone steps on his foot.

“Watch it!” He yelps.

“Sorry, I can’t see shit in here,” a familiar voice says through the fog.

The steam clears enough for Asher to recognize exactly where that voice came from.

“Are you kidding me?” Asher groans.

Connor’s deprecating laugh surrounds the small room. “What a nice surprise, Mr. Millstone.”

“Are you stalking me or something?” Asher says, all the tranquility he felt before turning into frustration.

Connor sits down next to him. “As much as I’d like to say I planned this, it’s just a fun coincidence.”

Asher shakes his head. He only stays silent for moment because he’s always preferred being hostile rather than awkward. “What are you even doing here?”

“Have you seen this place? It’s a cesspool of rich old widows,” Connor shrugs. “And, you know, sitting around in a steamy room, melting in your own sweat. It can be quite the aphrodisiac.” He winks and shows off his signature smirk.

“Ugh, gross,” Asher replies.

Connor opens his legs up a little wider, the pleat of his towel opening slightly...

“Oh, come on, put that away, dude,” Asher says, covering his eyes.

“I’m not the one looking down guys’ towels, I’m just trying to enjoy a relaxing steam,” Connor responds, stretching his arms over his head.

Asher looks further away. “Aren’t there, like, bathhouses you can do this at?”

Connor leans a little closer and hums, “Where’s the challenge in that?”

Asher twitches slightly and jumps out of his seat. He paces for a moment, then announces, “Okay, alright, you know what? You win! I don’t know what you want from me, but I don’t care anymore!”

Connor doesn’t react, only looks at him with a perplexing smile.

“I’m serious. You can stop playing your immature little game now, because I don’t care.” Asher crosses his arms over his chest bitterly.

Connor sighs and gets up slowly. He stands less than a foot away from Asher. “So that’s the ranting of a guy who doesn’t care? I’m truly convinced.”

Asher’s breath hitches when he’s close enough to see beads of sweat forming on Connor’s forehead. If it weren’t so hot already, he would be blushing.

Connor raises one dark eyebrow defiantly. Asher has never met anyone with such charismatic eyebrows.

There’s something about this wicked voodoo man that keeps making Asher betray himself. He feels himself drawing closer and closer to Connor’s face...until he’s shoved away, hard enough that he falls back into a seat.

When he looks up, he sees Connor with a huge, beaming grin on his face. “Did you just _lean in?_ ”

“What? No!” Asher says, his voice cracking.

Connor doubles over in laughter. “You just fucking leaned in!”

“No fucking way!” Asher says, kicking his leg out in an attempt to hit Connor. He misses, probably looking like an even bigger fool.

“Oh Jesus, this is great,” Connor wheezes, slapping his knee for the full comedic effect.

“You’re crazy! Wh- Why would I want to kiss _you?_ ” Asher stammers.

“Because I’m irresistable, I told you,” Connor says, trying to catch his breath. “I tried to warn you, I really did.”

“Fuck you,” Asher mutters before getting up and reaching for the door handle. Connor grabs his arm before he can leave.

“Asher, wait-”

As Asher turns around, he’s suddenly pushed against the door and Connor’s mouth his centimeters away from his. He knows he could shove Connor away if he wanted to, put part of him doesn’t want to.

“I’ll stop,” Connor breathes. Their slick chests press together and it’s a wonder how either of their towels haven’t fallen off yet. “If you tell me you want this.”

Asher stares at Connor like he’s trying to figure him out.

“No tricks, just admit it, and we’re done.” Asher doesn’t know if he’s ever heard Connor sound so serious before. His voice is low, almost a growl at this point.

“I want it,” Asher blurts, knowing that he’ll probably regret it.

Connor’s the one who leans forward this time, pressing his lips hard into Asher’s. Asher lets out a soft moan as Connor’s lips slide expertly over his. As he pulls his mouth away, Connor’s lips graze down his neck, dragging his teeth a bit.

Asher trails his hands down Connor’s torso and he digs his nails in around his hips. “Say you want this, too,” he breathes.

Connor breaks away, looking Asher straight in his eyes. “Promise you won’t get too attached.”

“I don’t want to be your fucking boyfriend, if that’s what you’re saying,” Asher replies, glowering.

Connor smirks. “Then, yeah, I want this.” He kisses Asher again, tugging slightly at his bottom lip.

Their towels eventually do fall off, but neither of them seem to mind.

 

-

 

Asher fully expects to go to criminal law class the next morning and face neverending judgment and scrutiny from every member of the Keating Five. Of course Connor will tell them, he’ll probably announce it to the whole class. “I broke Asher Millstone! Asher is in love with me! He wants to get married and have my babies!” He’ll probably expect a crown and a royal scepter. It will be a whole scene.

Much to Asher’s surprise, Connor walks in and sits an appropriate amount of space away from him and barely acknowledges his existence. Just like the old days. They do lock eyes for a moment and Connor doesn’t completely shut him out. Connor gives him a wink and Asher responds by rolling his eyes and looking away.

He can’t stop himself from cracking a smile, though. Maybe this time it’s not a complete betrayal.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off a series of casual tweets with my friends that got way too out of hand sorry i'm trash


End file.
